chapter 06
“Polius. What are you thinking about right now?”
“Haha. I was just thinking that Clara looks especially cute today.”
As he said that, Polius gently caressed Clara’s cheek. At his touch, she blushed shyly.
Melanie used to be like this too, he thought.
It had been a while since he’d felt something this fresh. Clara couldn’t take her eyes off his every word and gesture.
Clara has a kind of sweetness Melanie never did. If Melanie saw us now, her heart would sink, wouldn’t it?
Most likely, since Melanie hadn’t received anyone’s offer to be her partner, she’d have to attend the Founding Festival ball alone. She wasn’t particularly close to any young noblemen.
Perhaps she’d find someone at the last minute out of embarrassment, but at best it would be the son of a vassal family.
There aren’t many men as good as me. Watch closely, Melanie. You’ll regret this.
Polius was leisurely sipping champagne with Clara when—
“…So, Clara. Hm?”
A commotion suddenly broke out on one side of the palace ballroom. Curious, Polius turned his head.
“What’s going on?”
“Why is Lady Clotilde entering with Young Lord Beldert?”
Polius froze in shock.
Why is my name being mentioned as she enters? I came here with Clara today, didn’t I?
“Young Lord Beldert? I’m with Lady Clara Martis, so—wait, what?”
He didn’t yet know it, but Melanie was about to hit him harder than he could ever imagine.
“No, not you, Young Lord Polius Beldert. They mean your elder brother, Lord Damian, the Archmage. Ah—though he’s renounced the Beldert name now…”
Polius couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
His half-brother and his lover were walking into the ballroom arm in arm—both wearing radiant smiles brighter than he’d ever seen.
“What’s the meaning of this, Young Lord Polius?”
“Wasn’t Lady Clotilde seeing you?”
He could hear the confused murmurs of the young nobles who often accompanied him.
“You said you wanted to make Lady Clotilde realize your worth.”
“And that she should see your face while you spent time with another woman.”
“T-that’s—”
Clara, who’d overheard, stopped and asked, trembling,
“What do they mean, ‘make her realize your worth’?”
“Haha… They’re mistaken. You misheard, Clara.”
“Do you think I’m stupid? I heard perfectly. Don’t dodge the question. Was I just some tool to make Lady Clotilde jealous?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“So it didn’t matter who your partner was? Anyone would’ve done? Do you know how long I spent choosing this dress, with my heart fluttering?”
Tears welled up in Clara’s eyes. Normally, Polius would have comforted her, but now he didn’t have the presence of mind.
How on earth did those two end up as partners? Damian and Melanie hardly even know each other.
Meanwhile, the young man beside them—who wasn’t Clara’s partner—looked awkward as she began to cry.
“Lady Martis, please don’t cry. I’m sure Young Lord Polius didn’t mean it that way.”
“If you’re not involved, stay out of it! Polius, answer me!”
Polius’s irritation was reaching its limit. What he really wanted was to storm over to Melanie and demand an explanation.
Why is Clara being so difficult today of all days?
Rubbing his temples, he snapped,
“Just—quiet for a second. You’re being loud.”
“What? Did you just call me loud?”
He didn’t realize until too late that he’d said something he shouldn’t have.
“Are Lady Martis and Young Lord Polius fighting?”
“I think Lady Martis is crying!”
The people around them began to whisper.
It was a different kind of uproar than the one caused by Melanie and Damian’s entrance—this was messy gossip, and nothing more.
“No, Clara. I really like you. You’re not some kind of tool.”
“Then how could you say that?”
Polius tried to calm her down, but it only made things worse.
“You’re horrible. Truly horrible…”
“Clara, that’s not what I meant—”
“I don’t want to hear it!”
And with that, Clara ran off. Polius didn’t go after her.
She’s not what matters right now. Honestly, it’s better this way.
Compared to Melanie, Clara was lacking. Melanie was the heiress of House Clotilde; Clara was only a baron’s daughter.
They weren’t even officially dating—ending things now wasn’t such a bad idea. If he went after Clara, he’d miss his chance to confront Melanie and Damian.
“Young Lord Polius, aren’t you going to go after Lady Martis—”
“No. That’s not what’s important right now.”
Polius strode through the crowd toward Melanie.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He didn’t want to seem emotional, but seeing the two of them together made his voice harsh.
“Why are you two attending together? Since when are you even close?”
“Oh my, Young Lord. Did you come alone?”
Melanie tilted her head gracefully, perfectly calm, unlike his furious state.
She’s smiling? When I’m this angry?
If her goal was to provoke him, she’d succeeded brilliantly.
The crowd, murmuring about the strange pairing, grew even louder when Polius—known to be her lover—appeared.
“I guess the rumors about their breakup were true.”
“But don’t they look perfect together? Lady Clotilde and Lord Damian—the most beautiful pair in the room.”
“Honestly, Damian’s the more handsome one anyway… they look so elegant.”
“Not just looks—their lineage too…”
Polius glared at the whispering nobles, his eyes bloodshot.
“Ahem.”
They fell silent under his glare, but he’d already memorized their faces.
Once this was sorted out, he would make Melanie clear things up personally.
What? Damian suits her better than I do?
He remembered yelling at Melanie once for comparing the two brothers.
Melanie, with her lavender hair and deep violet eyes. Damian, with his black hair and the same red eyes as his.
Even surrounded by the glitter of the ballroom, neither of them faded into the background—they were both breathtaking. And together, they looked… perfect.
Even in this chaos, they remained poised and refined. It made Polius, often called plain, feel utterly outclassed.
The sight of them together lit a fire of rage in his chest.
They’ve both had it easy their whole lives. What would they know about how hard it is to be a bastard?
Unable—or unwilling—to hide his fury, Polius stepped right in front of them.
“What are you two to each other, that you came as partners?”
Melanie knew him too well not to see the effort it took for him to restrain himself, yet she only opened her fan with a serene smile.
“Oh, nothing special. We just happened to get along while talking, so we came together.”
Polius cursed silently to himself, over and over. But with so many eyes on him, he couldn’t lash out.
What’s going through Damian’s head right now?
Does he think he’s won because he stole my woman?
Whatever trick he pulled, it doesn’t matter. Melanie loves me!
Instead of confronting Damian, Polius leaned close to Melanie and whispered harshly,
“I told you not to deal with this guy. He’s garbage.”
“Oh my, are you insulting your own brother? That’s terrible. Shouldn’t a little brother be kind and well-behaved?”
Melanie knew what Damian had done to him—how much Polius resented him—and yet she still said this.
“Let’s talk somewhere private.”
“No, thank you. The ball’s about to start.”
“Are you playing games with me? Come here before this gets even more embarrassing.”
Was she really doing all this out of jealousy because he’d come with another woman? That was too much. She’d crossed the line.
“Melanie. Do you think I’m joking right now?”
Polius grabbed her wrist, deciding he’d drag her away if he had to.
He completely forgot that he himself had come with another woman. In his mind, he was the righteous victim here.
Even if you wanted to make me jealous, anyone but him!
Damian—the half-brother who’d always looked down on him, who called him a bastard and treated him with contempt.
Had Melanie fallen for that elegant façade too?
She knew full well how coldly Damian had rejected Polius’s attempts at brotherhood.
“Are you trying to drag her away by force?”
Of course—it was Damian who stepped in again to stop him.
“Let go,” Polius snapped.
“I should be the one saying that. Release Lady Clotilde’s hand.”
Damian’s grip stopped Polius cold.
No matter how hard Polius struggled, Damian didn’t move an inch. His strength was overwhelming—enough to restrain a grown man effortlessly.
